


Screaming Eve

by yesiamsleepy



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Crack, F/F, eve is thirstier, i make no apologies, it's not my fault canon refuses to give them water, look this was a 3am idea, monster inc au but gayer, villanelle is thirsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25267108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yesiamsleepy/pseuds/yesiamsleepy
Summary: Villanelle loves her job. She loves the thrill of sneaking into unfamiliar buildings, undetected by the occupants of the homes and finding her target completely unaware, before quickly completing her objective and disappearing like the wraith- No, like the monster she is. Unlike most of her colleagues, it is not just a job for her.Unfortunately, as is the case for all good things, this too must end. So, when scaring children starts to lose its charm she is forced to seek passion elsewhere.Or,The Monster Inc AU but gayER
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 7
Kudos: 65





	Screaming Eve

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a sort of dare (and I am that idiot who refuses to back down from one) to one-up my usual cursed ideas. Mix sleep deprivation with a healthy dash of stubbornness and a pinch of gay - and this mess is what you get. 
> 
> A couple of warnings, the basic plot of Monster Inc applies. Villanelle is a dick, children will be scared. Think Pilot episode where we first meet her. If that, in any way or form, upsets you, this isn't the story for you. For everyone else, welcome to the inner workings of my mind. No, I don't understand it either.
> 
> As always, 50% of the blame and 100% of the credit rests with [@happyandstupidotter](https://happyandstupidotter.tumblr.com/). She continuously turns lumps of coals into diamonds.

She did not mind scaring the human children.

It confounded her when her colleagues talked about how cute the kid in the pink bedroom was, or how bad they felt when the tiny one with a missing tooth cried so hard they started hiccupping. She couldn’t understand what the other monsters saw in them. At the end of the day, they were humans. Loud, breathy, busy, but unfortunately essential for their survival. So, no, Villanelle didn’t mind her job.

In fact, quite the opposite.

She loved quietly sneaking through the house, making sure no one could see or hear her, waiting for the perfect time to let the child catch a glimpse of her - sometimes a few strands of hair, sometimes a glint of her teeth - before quickly hurrying back to the shadows. Perfectly hidden, lurking, but never gone.

She loved setting the stage for what is to come. The children could always sense her. Sometimes the child is at dinner, happily eating with the family. Sometimes they would be doing their homework alone, quietly engrossed, before going deadly still. 

Villanelle loved these moments. 

The tiny body would swivel, looking for her, searching through shadows but only meeting darkness. That is when they would first lose trust in their surroundings. It was a beautiful moment.

Adults would be called and, unfailingly, inept at consoling the terrified child. They would make a show of opening cabinets and checking under beds. Some would even check the corners, never noticing her less than an inch away from their face. A few astute ones might even pause, the tiny hairs on their necks trying to draw attention to what deep down they already knew, that their childhood fears were never _just_ fears. But as always that moment would pass. They would chuckle, and shrug, and leave in order to move on with their evening.

And then the real fun began.

There was a subtle art to drawing screams. She would start small. Chairs would shake, stationary would fall, anything to make the child pay attention. Engagement was key. The child had to perceive her with all their available senses, leaving no room for rationality. 

Slowly, she would escalate. The windows would rattle, cupboard doors would open. By now, the child should have started breathing faster, their annoying little faces scrunched up. That is when the closet would be flung open and she would stand there in her full glory. Long pale hair falling straight to her shoulder, red eyes, red lips, red coat. And full, straight white teeth. And that was all it would take.

Wonderful, amazing ear shattering screams would fill the room. Enough to power whole neighbourhoods, sometimes even an entire city.

It lasted only a few seconds, but in those seconds, she was God flinging the full wrath of her might on the pathetic human. And it was glorious.

* * *

Villanelle loved her job, there’s no question about it. And her bosses loved her. She had been employee of the year for six years in a row. Her total scream collection was more than the next ten monsters’ combined. Hell, she had an entire city named after her because she had personally powered it for the next hundred years at least.

But it was also _so boring_.

Sure, watching the little munchkins absolutely lose it was fun, but it was getting too easy. Mundane. Tedious. Dull. Monotonous. Repetitive. _Boring_.

“Yes, I heard you the first time,” Konstantin replied, only half listening to her as he continued doing whatever useless little thing he did in his crammy little office.

“It’s not crammy and you know it.”

Villanelle smiled. At least he was paying attention. Sometimes it was so hard to get him to pique his interest, that she had to be more _creative_ . It was not like she would have had to break the boring old human artifact which was apparently one of a kind if he would just listen to her. But then he would sigh and look at her like _she_ was one of those tiny human creatures in need of a good scream. And well, it would just go downhill from there.

“It’s a little crammy.”

He finally looked up. Mentally, she let out a whoop of victory, though outwardly her small elegant smile never left her face. Reclined on the settee she gave her best impression of calm regal grace, a picture of refined poise.

“Don’t be smug.”

The smile drooped. Fine, she didn’t want to pretend anyway.

“I am _booored_ ,” the blonde whined, abruptly sitting up. She made sure to raise her voice to an octave that would grate on nerves. A wince told her she had hit her mark.

“Why don’t you try one of the new twin assignments?” He sighed wearily. “They are identical. You always liked pretending to be the other one. One bedroom, double the fun.”

Villanelle perked up a bit. She did like twins. And triplets. And one time she even found a set of identical quadruplets. Now, _that_ had been fun. 

But that was the problem! She had seen it all, done it all. There was the boy last year who was sleeping in between his parents and still was so loud they had hit their monthly quota in a week. There was a girl last month who thought she was safe during the day, till she materialized. She had appeared when parents were still in the room, she had appeared at sleepovers, terrifying a whole class at once. She constantly challenged herself, but nothing was enough.

It was always easy. And she was tired.

“Whatever.”

Konstantin gave her a worried glance, but handed over the card with the details all the same.

Twins, like he promised. 

It barely took her half a night. And then she was off to the next one. And the next. And then the one after.

Nothing was enough. But it was all she had.

The latest assignment took her to American suburbia. An eight year old boy, Kenny, her assignment.

There was more information in the card, but she hadn’t bothered reading. After all, it was always the same.

She crept quietly through the underbrush, staking out the place. It was a modest place, large enough for a family, but not too large if you were someone living alone. Not to her tastes of course, but she could see the charm.

The child in question was in the living room, colouring something intently on a piece of paper. Humans had such a funny way of naming things. Living Room. As if there was a room for the dead. Ridiculous.

She found her way in through the kitchen, a window conveniently left open for her. Most of the lights were turned down in the house, making her smile. Humans and their odd habits. They had clung to darkness for centuries, finally finding a way to banish monsters like her. And then they went back to things like turning off lights. They could at least _pretend_ to give her a challenge.

Their idiocy, her kind’s gain.

She tested out her assignment, slowly dragging a nail on the window pane, savouring the resulting screech.

The child, it seemed, was a skittish one. The tiny scratch had him immediately swivelling to check the source of the noise. Villanelle could practically smell the fear already radiating off him in waves. She quelled a sigh of disappointment.

This would be over too fast.

Settling back into the darkness, she resigned herself to bide her time. There was no point setting the scene. The child was practically hyperventilating already and _any_ activity was likely to set him off, which would be ...unwelcome to say the least.

His caregiver was clearly still awake and nearby. Any screaming was likely to be cut off before it reached its full potential leading to an unsuccessful night. She did not do unsuccessful.

So she waited.

* * *

It was completely dark when she heard approaching footsteps. Late. Later than Villanelle was used to most of the human children’s bedtimes being. And judging by the drooling child, neither was he. 

Villanelle felt herself perk up. It was always helpful to gauge the adults in the house when possible. Her colleagues could not understand why she bothered. _We’re here for the kids_ , they would whine, short-sighted fools. And that is why she hated group assignments.

Humans may be whiny, pathetic creatures trapped in lustreless singular forms, but to the discerning eye, their forms had as much variation as any monster. And no one could accuse Villanelle of not being perspicacious. 

There was more to it than simple curiosity, however. Parents and guardians were intimately linked to the child and, as important as it was to know how a target would respond to her actions, it was equally worthwhile to pay attention to the adults. Some were neglectful and would not react to even the loudest of screams, some were attentive, some prone to frequent bedroom checks, others dead to the night once their head hit the pillow. Knowing the caregiver meant knowing exactly how long she had to finish her job, what sounds she could get away with and what would lead to lights turned on and hasty entrances. 

There was no one fit all policy for humans. Villanelle knew that.

And that is what made her so good at her job.

The footsteps grew louder, enough to be audible to human ears. The child looked up just as the human reached the doorway. The woman - for this new human was clearly what humans called a woman - was small for an adult, a few inches shorter than Villanelle herself. However, there was quiet assurance to her walk that made her presence seem larger. Villanelle instinctively knew this human would not be one of those ones that would tolerate disrespect. That was good. Villanelle always liked the feisty ones.

Words were spoken, but she barely registered the exchange, more interested in studying the newest member in the room. Still dressed in slacks and a printed shirt, the woman looked more ready for work than bed. The only concession to the lateness of the hour was the half pinned hair, still in the process of being unravelled.

Villanelle was fascinated.

Waves of dark curly locks rolled free as the brunette efficiently uncaged them for their restraints. Her hands moved quickly, sure of their movements, probably having done this hundreds of times before. It seemed like a complete travesty to Villanelle that she had been deprived of viewing the action before.

The woman used her fingers to run through the strands as the final pin came free, unaware of the eyes that followed her every movement. Villanelle had the strongest urge to replace those fingers with her own. She felt unmoored. She wanted to wrap herself in the hair, make it into her own fur and the only thing stopping her from acting on it was the equally strong desire to make sure that the head that possessed the hair was never deprived of it.

She did not know how long she stood there, rooted by warring impulses. It could have been five minutes, it could have been five thousand. The deep rumble of an engine just outside her hiding spot finally snapped her out of her thoughts. It was only then that she realized that the child was no longer in the room.

She had lost her target. That never happened. Cursing internally, she followed the brunette as she too left the room. 

The woman led her to the entryway. Villanelle watched from her shadows as she opened the door to reveal another human woman outside. She too wore a jacket and slacks, though a long dark coat hid most of the ensemble. Villanelle frowned. _More adults?_ Two humans were not unusual, but she felt oddly protective of the idea that this human lived alone.

Thankfully, the new woman never entered. Instead, the child, now fully dressed, ran outside excitedly. It was only then that her brain helpfully supplied her with the conversation she was only half listening to. 

This was the child’s mother. And she had finally arrived to collect the child and take him home. And now all her work staking out the place was in vain.

There was more conversation, but Villanelle did not bother to stick around, choosing instead to retreat to the hallway. It made sense now, why the child was up so late. Why no room in the house looked quite like a child’s would. These weren’t very unusual, humans who wasted no thought or energy to the desires of their children existed . But something about this human did not fit that image.

Yet, somehow, she could tell she did not fit the image of the general human either.

Villanelle debated what to do. 

Someone had fucked up. Their assignments were always for the child’s permanent residence. There were too many variables otherwise. Normally, at this point she would be seething to take her frustration out on whichever intern could not understand what a residence meant. If the child wouldn’t scream, a monster would. _If only monster screams held the same energy as a human’s_.

But for some reason, not today. 

Villanelle felt oddly reluctant to leave. Maybe she was just bored. There was nothing waiting for her back at her apartment. Konstantin would be off with his family, whom she was still not allowed to meet. And without at least the satisfaction of a successful job, she had nothing to look forward to. Might as well stay, in case the child came back. 

_It could happen, right._

With the child gone, the woman it seemed, finally felt free to shed her work persona. A soft sweater replaced the starched shirt and worn looking sweatpants adorned her legs. To Villanelle’s delight, the hair remained free.

The television was switched on and the woman planted herself in front of it, food in hand. Villanelle took the seat next to her, as close she could place herself without alerting the woman to her presence, and settled in. A more introspective colleague might have asked themself why they felt more comfortable sitting in silence, invisible, next to her target’s temporary guardian, but no one had ever accused Villanelle of being introspective.

Besides, other monsters would never understand how she could find this as fascinating as she did. The woman was the most expressive creature she had ever seen. Dark eyes widened as she intently watched the characters on the screen. She bounced with every loud noise as her hair swayed in tandem. Villanelle could barely move her eyes.

The monster was so engrossed watching the woman, she nearly missed the tell tale gestures. But she had been doing this job for too long for her brain to not register the signs. As the movie went on, the woman progressively curled in on herself. Her movements grew more rigid as her breath came in faster and faster pants. 

And finally it happened.

A blood curdling scream filled the room as she let out one of the most terrifying sounds.

Villanelle jumped, startled despite herself. But before she could react further, a short vibration from the device at her hip distracted her.

Curious, she took it out, and nearly let out her own yell.

Her scream collector was filled to capacity.

* * *

Konstantin was not amused with her proposition.

“Out of the question,” he had declared and promptly began pacing in front of her with a vigour she did not know he still possessed.

Villanelle pouted. She knew it would take some convincing, but she was prepared for it. She had put on her frilliest dress and her cheeriest attitude, and had even announced her visit. The office had not been insulted even once. So she really couldn’t understand the huffing and puffing that was going on in front of her. 

“But _why_?”

The words finally brought the pacing to a halt, thank goodness. The constant to and fro was making her dizzy, not to mention the effect on the already severely abused carpet. He really should invest in better decor.

She knew better than to say that out loud though. Instead, she turned her attention to her handler, who had, by now, turned his glare fully on her. It was cute that he thought he could intimidate her.

“You can’t just decide to _change_ your career track!” He snapped, his voice distinctly louder than usual. “We’re monsters. Scaring humans is the only job.”

Villanelle raised an eyebrow. Konstantin never yelled, despite her having given him ample reason to on more than one occasion. Instead, his tone would take on a distinctly parent-like disapproval that Villanelle had often heard the humans use when they thought their wards were making up stores. So, for him to come this close to shouting was a definite surprise.

“I will still be collecting screams.”

“From adults!” 

Clearly, the innocent mentee with her benevolent mentor routine was going nowhere. Villanelle stood up. At her full height, she towered over Konstantin and she used that to her advantage now.

“One adult human screaming for a few seconds completely filled up the scream collector.” She replied, evenly, making sure not to betray how much she wanted this. 

Konstantin could read her better than any other monster, alive or dead, and if he had any inkling as to her fascination with that particular human, this project would never be approved and she would find herself in front of a door to a completely different part of the human world. No, she had to play this carefully.

“You know as well as I do, even at the best scream lengths, it takes at least five children to even come close to filling. If we can scare adults we will meet our quota so much faster.” Villanelle softened her voice, making sure to look him in the eye. She had one shot at this. “‘Helping all monsters’, that’s our motto right? I thought you would be happy.”

The handler narrowed his eyes. It was bullshit. He knew it was bullshit. Nevertheless, he could not dismiss a plea for the betterment of monsters without additional prodding. She had his attention now.

The other monster sighed long and hard, before finally moving to take a seat. He dropped his frame into the ornamental settee, rather unceremoniously, tension bleeding out of his shoulders. 

“Why do you really want to do this?” 

He was entertaining the idea. Score one for Villanelle.

She sat down next to him. She really hated the settee, but concessions had to be made. It was time for the adoring daughter, or as close to one as Villanelle was to Konstantin.

“I told you. I am so bored. Children are so easy to scare. It is no longer a challenge.” 

She dropped her head to the back of the chair for added measure, her beautiful face marred by a petulant expression. It was all very dramatic, if she said so herself. But flair was what she was good at.

“Adults though,” she continued. “Now that would be _fun._ They are so skeptical and so sure of their world. That pedestal of certainty, it would be the greatest gratification to pull it out from under them.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him considering her words. Despite his hard exterior, he had always let her get away with more than the average monster. He was listening. Now for the final punch.

“And it _would_ help out monster city.”

The final bit of tension bled out from his shoulders, as he moved to mirror her position. She had him. It was a long while before Konstantin spoke. 

“ _If_ we do this, I will have to talk to the board.”

Villanelle beamed. There was no question of ‘if’. If Konstantin suggested it, the board would approve. She could barely contain herself and paid attention to the rest of his speech with great difficulty.

“But you have to promise me you will be careful,” he continued, sternly. “Adults are different from kids. Harder to scare _and_ they can hurt us. For now, you will be focused on this human you have already met, to minimize risks. No venturing into unknown waters! I--”

Before he could even finish his speech, Konstantin had an armful of giggling blonde. Villanelle hugged him tightly. 

“Aww, you care,” she said delightedly. Sure, he had behaved exactly as she had predicted, but she was still happy he did. They lied to each other as often as they told the truth, but sometimes it felt good to feel validated.

Konstantin awkwardly patted her back, still unused to her bouts of ebullience despite being on the receiving end of them often enough, before carefully extricating himself. Villanelle let him go. After all, the quicker he filed the petition, the quicker she could get back to the object her desire.

Two days later, she had her new assignment in her hands. With shaky fingers, she opened the file and saw the very face that had haunted her dreams staring back at her. She read the name once, twice, tasting it on her tongue. She found she quite liked the taste.

_Eve Polastri._

* * *

It took Villanelle three more days to make her way back to her quarry.

She knew her whereabouts were being observed. Konstantin could not be allowed to look into it any more than he already was. She took her time finishing the rest of her pending assignments. If she had been bored before, she was even less interested now. Still, obligations had to be fulfilled.

And, for a treat as pretty as this, she was willing to wait.

It was another dark night when Villanelle finally approached the woman. Eve. She liked the name, liked how it sounded escaping her mouth. She wondered how her own name would sound coming from the brunette’s lips. Maybe if she played this right, she could find out.

The living room was empty, all the lights turned off. So was the hallway and the kitchen. For a moment Villanelle worried that she wasn’t home, but a soft thump coming from above reassured her.

She made her way upstairs on soft feet, shadows clinging to her like a cloak. No human could have seen her even if they had looked directly at her. But the house stood empty, almost giving her a free pass. The door to the bedroom was half open, light spilling into the corridor. It drew Villanelle like a moth.

Eve was perched on the bed, engrossed in watching her laptop. A pair of headphones covered her ears, wholly unaware of the creeping creature. It seemed that she had left her work earlier today. Her slacks were thrown haphazardly on the floor next to her, as if she couldn’t get rid of them fast enough. Dressed in soft sweats, she looked the picture of relaxed contentment.

For a moment, Villanelle just stood and stared. It seemed impertinent, somehow, to disturb the peace. Unfortunately, she had a job to do. And no matter her motivations, she knew she had to at least attempt to deliver what she had promised.

Decision made, she looked around for a good hiding place. Her eyes landed on the closed closet doors and dismissed it almost instantly. Coming out of the closet would be too cliché, even for her.

It was not often that the monster found herself without a plan. To an outside viewer she may have looked impulsive, but Villanelle was a strategist at heart. She knew exactly how each encounter could go and she planned for every eventuality. These were uncharted waters though. And she had been dropped without a life raft. To make matters worse, she didn't even know if she wanted to swim or sink.

So she watched. And waited.

The first night proved to be uneventful. As the night drew on, the woman sank further and further into the cushions till she was practically supine on the bed. At some point, she managed to turn off her computer and place it next to her, before giving way to slumber. Villanelle had watched a lot of humans fall asleep, some were snappish, some grumbly and some prone to fits of giggles at nothing. But there was something adorable about the sleepy brunette try to hit the light switch without opening her eyes that brought a smile to her face.

The second night went much the same way.

On the third, the blonde decided to make her first cautious foray into delivering her task. She started small. A creaking chair, a few loud bangs, lightly shaking the bed, but the brunette did not even stir. The sounds escalated till Villanelle was sure even the neighbours would hear soon. Eve barely stirred.

The next night she tried dropping a few items on the brunette. Nothing that would injure the human though. The goal, after all, was to startle her, not cause pain. Some of the more, problematic monsters had trouble differentiating the two, despite it being covered extensively in monster orientation. Screams caused by pain were tainted energy, useless in terms of their needs. Thus, actually hurting a human was not tolerated and more than one employee had been swiftly terminated for violating the rules. After all, monsters needed fully functioning humans to be able to react to their presence. Even the slightest damage could cause irreparable harm.

So Villanelle carefully dropped small items - small pillows, a pen, car keys - but still no response. 

_Was she dead?_

No, the blonde could clearly see the rise and fall of her chest, where the sheet had fallen away. She could hear her heartbeat, strong and steady. Eve was very much alive, just not responding to any of her overtures. 

It was not till the sixth night that the mystery was made clear. The blonde had arrived at roughly the same time, expecting Eve to be engrossed in another movie, just as she had on all the previous ones.

Her first clue that something was amiss were the soft sounds coming from the bedroom.

_Was someone there?_

Curious, the blonde made her way carefully to her chosen hiding spot and noticed her first difference. The brunette, _Eve_ she whispered to herself, was not at her customary spot. Villanelle frowned.

_Maybe she was mistaken and Eve hadn’t come home yet?_

No, she could still hear her voice. Low, distant, but still distinctly recognizable. It was coming from the balcony attached to the room. Eve was on her phone

The blonde itched to join her. 

No, not yet. It was still light out. Appearing in front of the woman was out of the question, even if she was not on her phone. She would get her opportunity. Besides, Eve was walking back into the room.

A shiver racked her frame. She was cold, Villanelle realized, not surprising since the brunette was only wearing a thin tank top. It seemed she had received the call as she was half way through dressing. Not that Villanelle complained, though she did wonder who it was on the line that required such prompt response. 

It was not jealousy, she reasoned. She simply disliked a change in routine. After all, her job depended on being able to predict her target’s activities and response. And Eve was, at the end of the day, a target. A beautiful challenging target.

Villanelle mourned the loss of extra skin as the brunette moved to wrap a shrug around her frame, though it did leave her free to focus on her attention elsewhere, namely on the offending phone call.

Oblivious to her monster’s attention, Eve continued moving around, phone carefully balanced between her left shoulder and ear. Her right hand held a small yellow cylindrical bottle. At this distance the label was clearly visible. It was a pill bottle.

_Was Eve sick?_

An unusual feeling engulfed the blonde. She had only had this feeling once before, when Konstantin had not shown up to work for a week. She had nearly demolished his supervisor’s office wanting to know what happened to him (after having threatened the location of the office out of some unfortunate clerk who happened to be in her path at the wrong time). Turned out, he had caught the monster flu and was out sick. 

This feeling was like that, but stronger. A lot stronger. She wanted to ask what was wrong, what she could do. 

But what good would that do.

She could do nothing. All she could do was stay rooted at her spot. And listen to that cthulhu damned call.

“--yeah I just have to take my sleeping pill, so I will be drowsy in half an hour. Those things are _really_ effective. I could recommend the doc--”

Oh. _Oh._

Villanelle could have punched herself. It wasn’t that she was unaware about human remedies. They were covered in monster orientation. Okay, she did not exactly read the booklet cover to cover, but she was still _aware_. In her defence, human children did not usually need extra help falling asleep. At least not before she visited them.

Over the course of the next hour she watched as the brunette gradually migrated to her bed, phone still in hand. She even forgot to be annoyed by the call as she watched Eve space out between pauses in the conversation. Words became more and more slurred and her eyes refused to stay open. After what felt like an eternity, the brunette finally lost the battle. The phone slipped from her hands and bounced twice on the bed before settling. 

It was only when soft snores filled the room that Villanelle moved from her vantage. The monster approached the bed and carefully draped the blanket on the sleeping human. She could be nice this once. Eve did not even stir. 

A wide grin lit up her face. White teeth flashed in the night, almost negating the shroud of darkness that hung about her. If the blonde had paused to consider, she might have realized that the truly frightening visage she presented probably could have fulfilled her assignment right there. 

But no, she had work to do. Slowly waking Eve from her slumber was not going to work. She could not use the disorientation of sleep and cling to the realms of nightmares. In fact, none of her usual plans could be executed.

It was a brilliant thought.

She wanted a challenge and Eve had presented her with the greatest one ever.

* * *

It was both exhilarating and frustrating working without a plan that she already knew was sure to work. Over the next few weeks, Villanelle shifted her activities to waking hours. 

Eve had a specific routine. She would return home just as daylight was fading. Sometimes she would make dinner, other times she wouldn’t bother, probably having already eaten at work. After taking a shower, she would migrate to the bed and put on something mindless to fall asleep to. 

It was during this time that Villanelle decided to strike. The exhaustion of the day combined with the beginning effects of the sedative produced a perfect environment for waking nightmares. 

Or rather, it would have been if the brunette even noticed!

Villanelle started with small noises. Scratches on the ceiling, rocking the table, a few pens falling. All in vain. The noise cancelling headphones rendered all of her efforts useless.

Her other senses proved to be just as oblivious. She deliberately angled the light fixtures and reflective surfaces in order to provide strategic glimpses of her features, meant to show up only at the corner of the brunette’s eyes, gone as soon as she searched for it. But either the bright light of the screen made her practically blind or the woman just did not care. She never even looked up

The one time Villanelle tried rocking the bed, she was shushed.

_Shushed._

“As if I was some insolent child trying to get some attention,” she yelled at Konstantin. 

The _audacity._

Her outburst only seemed to amuse him further. 

“Don’t laugh. It’s maddening.”

“Yeah?” he replied, still chuckling. “Then why are you smiling?”

That wiped the smile off her face. Nearly. The corner of her mouth still refused to turn down. She pouted.

“Maybe I am no longer bored.”

* * *

Fun as it was though, it _was_ getting frustrating not being acknowledged. She liked a challenge, but she liked winning more. And she was rapidly running out of ideas.

It had been another day of fruitlessly following Eve around the kitchen, uselessly banging pots and pans (which she did not even hear due to earphones) and opening cabinets (which she thought she had opened herself) when she decided she had enough. She needed a break.

Leaving the brunette to her meal, the monster trudged up the stairs. Any other day she might have been particularly proud of her posture of absolute dejection and mourning, but today, she was just tired. 

The sound of the faucet running drew her attention as she reached the bedroom. Eve had drawn a bath today. It seemed nice, relaxing. For a moment Villanelle wished she could climb in herself. Just for half an hour to relax. Maybe she would go home early. Draw a nice lava bath. Fill it with the tears of her enemies. That sounded heavenly.

The steam from the hot water had completely fogged up the mirror, making her appear blurry and indistinct. It was fitting, she _felt_ blurry, immaterial. On a whim, her fingers moved across the glass, making shapes, almost without conscious thought. Letters formed on the surface.

_Why won’t you notice me._

Villanelle stared at the words. Wow. That was beyond pathetic.

The monster moved to wipe them. 

As her hand nearly touched the mirror a loud bang alerted her to the bathroom door opening. Eve was here.

She had less than a second to escape out of sight. Villanelle cursed internally as she fled the scene. Just as she reached a safe spot, the brunette entered the bathroom. Villanelle watched, almost in slow motion, as she reached the sink. The words were still there.

Shit.

For the longest moment, Eve stood there, frozen. Villanelle waited with baited breath. She did not know what for. A scream. A gasp. Maybe running out of the house and never setting foot in there again. She had no idea how adults would react. How _Eve_ would react. So she watched.

Slowly, as if broken from a trance, Eve extended her finger. Her hand moved in indecipherable motions before stopping completely. Then she was gone, just as abruptly as she had entered.

Villanelle did not move, listening intently for any sounds of her return. The pounding of her own heart almost made it impossible. That had been a near thing.

Finally, when the monster was sure there was no one coming, she approached the mirror.

A new set of scribbles decorated the glass surface, standing distinctly below her own scrawls. They formed two words.

_Make me._

* * *

As the nights started to grow longer, so did Villanelle’s messages.

_I like your hair._

_Your eyes are prettier than the stars._

_You are the only one worth noticing in this world._

And every time, there would be a response.

Sometimes it would be short and funny, hurried, when she was late going to work. Sometimes the entire mirror would be filled with carefully scribbled words. She cherished all of them.

The monster had long since given up questioning her own motives. A week ago, she would have argued that learning about her prey, figuring out her likes and dislikes, interests and phobias could only help her do her job. Now, she was too excited to bother lying even to herself. 

She was drunk on Eve. Every time the human revealed a bit about herself. She only became more fascinating. And she was loath to stop.

She learnt that Eve hated her job, but loved her boss, which made it impossible to quit. She wanted to cook more but it was often not worth the effort of cooking only for herself. She found herself stagnated, unable to enjoy what she did and she didn't know how to change it. Her job used to excite her and she used to love going to work. Lately, it just had become more of the same and she was _tired._

In turn, Villanelle told the woman about herself. How she could relate to no longer finding her work stimulating enough. How she was looking for more herself. She told her a bit about her home, how humanity could never fathom the different kinds of beings that exist. And that led to more questions, all of which the blonde happily answered.

The messages gradually gave way to gifts. The monster would place an item she thought was fascinating on Eve’s desk every few days and wait for a reaction. The items were random, things she had seen during her many forays into the human world. But they would always be something most humans would consider morbid. It was her way of testing, checking to see where the line was.

Eve never disappointed.

The bar of handcrafted black soap replaced the store bought brand in her bathroom. The book of obscure but graphic rituals found a place on her bedside table, half read and clearly liked. When the pendant with the lock of her hair appeared, the woman stared at it for so long, Villanelle wondered if she had finally overstepped. 

She shouldn’t have doubted. The pendant found a chain, and the entire piece went around her neck, hair securely resting at the center of her chest. 

To say the monster was happy would have been would have been an understatement. If she could exist in this feeling forever, she would.

Unfortunately, time was running out.

It had been months since she had been handed the assignment. And the board was getting impatient. Konstantin had personally shown up to her quarters. He never showed up at her home unless things were bad. 

He had not stayed long. 

“It’s time to finish this,” he told her, placing a mangled key on her couch. “They asked me to give you this.” 

And then he left.

The implication had been clear. The board controlled their world and had explicit control over access to the human dimension, among others. Each part of the world had a door linked to it, and every monster had a key. Place the key in the correct door and you would find yourself in the exact corner of the world you wished.

Without a key, though, you are trapped. Restricted to the monster world, never able to leave.

Keys weren’t revoked lightly, but it had happened. Their threat was real. They had allowed Villanelle to indulge herself because she always provided results. But this experiment was taking too long, and either she went back to collecting screams, or she would never go back. 

Either way, her time here was up.

* * *

It was a moonless night when Villanelle made her way to the familiar bedroom. Sunset had come and gone and a dense covering of clouds promised an inky black night. The gentle rumble of thunder signalled an approaching storm.

Villanelle entered the room, invisible and silent as always, yet dark glittering eyes homed in on her almost immediately. It should have been impossible, yet Eve had developed an unnatural ability to find her no matter how dark the room. Somehow, the monster did not mind.

The woman was perched on the edge of her bed, a glass, half filled with dark crimson liquid, in her hand. She was still in her shirt and slacks, jacket haphazardly thrown on the bed. 

“You’re late.“

Villanelle startled. It was the first time she had been addressed verbally. Her mouth felt dry, but the words came out of her almost without conscious thought.

“I am sorry,” she whispered.

The tension seemed to leak out of the brunette. Her shoulders dropped down as her fist slowly unclenched. The death grip on the glass relaxed.

Eve stood up and carefully placed the drink on her nightstand. Her eyes seemed to see straight through the blonde, into her very soul, if she even had one.

“Why are you here?” 

“For you.”

The clouds parted for a moment, and with it, went the shroud of darkness that consumed Villanelle’s form. A single ray of moonlight illuminated the dark room as the monster stepped forward, stepping into the light for the first time. She was accoutred in a long black dress, covered from neck to toe. The dark material was beautiful, but lustreless, barely reflecting any light. Translucent lace sleeves provided a hint of skin and elegant hand stitched frills filled the bodice. An elaborate black veil completed the look.

She looked like she had stepped out of someone’s nightmare. Well, someone but Eve’s. The woman stood frozen not uttering a sound. The monster would have been disappointed at the lack of reaction, but the acceleration in the other woman’s breathing told her she had definitely noticed. A pink tongue darted out to wetten dry lips.

Villanelle took the veil off.

“I like your hair,” Eve smiled, walking up to the blonde. Her hand climbed up to briefly touch the pendant before reaching out to touch the very same hair she had been carrying around with her. 

Red painted lips stretched into a grin.

“You are beautiful,” she parroted, pouring as much sincerity as she could into three words.

She took half a step forward, so that there remained barely any space between them. This close, the difference in their heights was even more apparent. The blonde looked down, and saw amusement and mischief reflected in the black glittering smile

“Show me.”

The kiss started out soft, almost hesitant. For a short moment, the blonde wondered if a short chaste kiss was all that would be granted. Somehow, she didn’t think she would mind too much.

That thought, however, flew out the window as soon as the other woman opened her mouth. A hot tongue darted out to lick her lips, asking for permission, which was eagerly granted. Her breath came out in short pants as Eve licked into her mouth. She had often mocked the concept of a paradisaical afterlife that humans liked to cling to. But in that moment she believed. 

Heaven existed and she was in it.

Her hands found home in the long black locks she had often fantasized about. A part of her, the part that wasn’t being consumed by tasting Eve, noted that it was just as soft and silky as she had imagined. Her nails raked her scalp as she gently tugged.

The response was immediate. A ragged moan filled the air, the sound going straight to her core. And it was in that moment Villanelle knew she would spend the rest of time trying to learn every sound the woman could make.

Turns out there are more enjoyable ways to make someone scream.

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me [@yesiamsleepy](https://yesiamsleepy.tumblr.com/)


End file.
